Downpour
by FeelTooLittle
Summary: 'There's silence as he just stares at me, with his big, brooding eyes beneath his heavy lids locked on mine. My mind actually stops and I just stare back, utterly transfixed by Jared Hall's mesmerised gaze.'
1. Some Kind of Meet Cute

It's really raining outside. For La Push, 'really raining' means chucking-it-down-don't-try-to-go-outside-or-you'll-be-swept-away-by-the-water raining. It's freezing too, but as a long-term La Push resident I know to come prepared and so I'm wrapped up in a sweater and a hoodie and a scarf, my coat slung over the back of my chair, dripping monotonously onto the nylon floor, and my hair's just about beginning to dry. Today is not a great day – I'm coughing and spluttering and my nose is perpetually running. And despite my many layers, I really wish they would turn the bloody heating on because it's _freezing_.

The bell rings to start class, and I continue to stare into space, occasionally smiling when people say 'Hey' as they take their seats.

I got bailed on this morning by my best friend, Lou, because today her new boyfriend gave her a lift. Lou pretty much has a new boyfriend every other week, so I'm used to the walk in and usually it's just a bit damp, but today, as we've established, it's _really _raining and that's why I'm slouched in this uncomfortable, squeaky chair, dripping.

Usually I like history too, but today's a weird day and I haven't had my coffee and I'm cold, so right now, history with Mr Blund is the last place I want to be. Condensation is dredging its way up the windows, which I really don't get because it's freezing, and Mr Blund's nasally voice is worming its way inside my head and I really don't feel well at all.

So I hug myself and pull my hoodie tightly around myself and hope this lesson will actually start on time so I can get out and go find Lou because she always has an extra flask of coffee.

Mr Blund pauses as the door gets shoved open, and someone drags their way across the classroom to collapse into the seat next to me. He chucks his spiral notebook onto the desk with a loud 'thud'. The chair strains under his weight. Jared Hall.

I've never really spoken to Jared Hall. Sure, I've noticed that he's a good-looking guy and he seems to be pretty popular and I've bumped into him a few times at parties and I've sat next to him in history for nearly two years, but I've never really spoken to him or really looked at him.

But even I can see that he looks exhausted.

He's been gone for two, nearly three, weeks, and no one's really sure where he went. Jared and his best friend Paul literally disappeared seventeen days ago, when they just didn't show up for school, and this is the first time I know of that anyone's seen either of them since.

Personally, I assumed they must have gone on holiday or something, maybe up to Seattle or even further, but in all honesty, I didn't have a clue where they'd actually been, and from the looks of it, Jared Hall had not been enjoying a relaxing vacation for the past fortnight.

He's also huge. I mean he's really bulked up and grown like a foot since I saw him last. I'm trying not to stare at him as he slouches and shuffles in his seat, but, wow, his muscles were already defined before but now they look like... like they're in 3D or something.

Mr Blund shushes the class, who have descended into almost stage whispers about where he's been. I feel like I'm in a teen television show, you know, like that show with that girl who runs like a rumour website or something?

Whatever, the point is, everyone's going crazy over Jared Hall's return, but he just looks pissed off and tired.

Mr Blund goes back to his monologue, and the class begins to settle down.

But all I can think about is the boy sitting next to me. More specifically, how all of a sudden it's nice and warm and I'm not shivering, because the boy sitting next to me is literally _radiating_ heat. I swear down, if he's got some contagious disease and he's spreading it to me, I'm really not going to be thrilled.

Despite, the warmth, the hairs on my arms are standing on end. I'm hyper-aware of Jared Hall beside me, and every time he taps his finger or the desk, or exhales loudly, or yawns, I feel my insides lurch and I want to flinch away, or, even better, move closer.

I am so aware of Jared Hall, I can feel myself beginning to blush, because our arms are so nearly touching and I need to move away to be able to concentrate.

I peek at him beside me. He's staring at a poster about the Quileute legends, looking faintly amused but also a bit mad. I look at the inoffensive poster, that's been hanging there for years, and wonder what he's fussed about.

Mr Blund sets us some work and a question to discuss with our partner. I get my pencil and turn to Jared.

He's still staring at the poster.

'Um', I begin, not wanting to alarm the tired, moody and now beefy boy beside me. 'Hey, uh, Jared?'

He begins to turn to look at me slowly, before Mr Blund makes some announcement about a club or something, eventually telling us to get on with our assignment. 'Yeah, you got a pencil I could borrow?' He asks, opening his notebook.

'Yeah. Sure'. My voice is all croaky and ill sounding. Nice.

I hand it to him and he takes it. 'Thanks.'

He writes the title at the top of his page and looks over at me. His heavy breathing hitches and he drops the pencil I just handed him.

I begin some stupid ramble about the project and what he thinks and how if he wants he can copy my notes from the past two weeks, and he just _stares_ at me. His mouth is hanging open and it's really off-putting. I pause mid-ramble.

'Are you alright?'

Nothing.

'Jared?'

He grins at me, and he looks a little less tired.

'Yeah, I-I'm fine. You're Kim, right?' He cradles my name as he says it.

I frown in confusion and sniff. Attractive. 'Yeah. You sure you're okay?'

'Are you ill?'

'I-what?'

'Your voice, it's really croaky. And your nose is all red. Are you ill?' He sounds genuinely concerned, and in all honesty I'm concerned for his sanity right now.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Why is he looking at my nose and commenting on its colour?

'I have a cold,' is all I say.

'You look gorgeous anyway,' he murmurs. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to have heard that, but I did, and that's so awkward and uncomfortable, but I feel my stomach lift and my heart practically skip a beat when he says it.

There's silence as he just stares at me, with his big, brooding eyes beneath his heavy lids locked on mine. My mind actually stops and I just stare back, completely transfixed by Jared Hall's mesmerised gaze.

And then I remember that we're sitting in Mr Blund's history class and Jared Hall is probably just feeling the effects of the steroids he's probably been taking to get him so buffed up. So I lean back, grab my pencil and underline my title about ten _thousand_ times, waiting for him to stop staring so we can do some work. His eyes are trailing me, I can _feel_ them burning into me, and I'm beginning to feel really self-conscious.

'Can we actually just do this please? I mean, I have to work tonight and I have a ton of homework left over from the weekend...' Like Jared Hall cares about my work load.

He just looks at me, his big brown eyes fixed on mine. He leans in slightly and pushes a piece of hair behind my ear.

I immediately raise my hand to feel the strand of hair, and our fingers brush as I do. His are _burning_.

'I don't wanna be a bitch, but can we get on with it?' I stutter slightly at first, unsure of what just happened, or is happening. 'Please?' I add when he says nothing.

'Whatever you want,' he says, his eyes not leaving my face.


	2. Stay Faraway but Too Close

**Hey guys, so I got quite a few story alerts etc for the first chapter but only 1 review... I'm really trying to improve my writing so any help would be much appreciated. I actually have plans for this story woo, very excited to share them. Enjoy...**

Since that first day in history, I had felt Jared Hall's eyes on me every history lesson, in the canteen, by the lockers, in the parking lot, at the picnic benches, and even, to my horror, in PE. And whenever I turned to him to tell him to stop, his eyes would remain firmly fixed on mine and I would forget what I was about to say. Hell, I would forget how to _breathe_, because he was giving me _that_ look and I could not even breathe when he looked at me like that.

So today in history, I tell myself, I'll pretend to be unaware of his stalkerish stares and just stick to the work at hand and hopefully Jared Hall will get the message.

He's already slouched in his chair as I go to take my seat beside him. He straightens up and smiles when I walk past. I ignore him. I calmly and methodically arrange my pen and pencil and rubber and ruler and pretty much any other piece of stationary I can find onto my desk. Once I'm finished, I bite my lip and look out of the window, hoping Mr Blund will get here already.

It's not that I don't like Jared Hall's attention, I just don't understand it. I'm just Kim, not really anything that special. I'm not the most popular girl here, or the prettiest or funniest. All I really have going for me is that I'm smart, and I'm using that to get the hell away from this stupid titchy town as soon as I can. I have my sights set on universities in New York and California and Canada – anywhere that's not here, in this wet and miserable rez.

I have my friends and I work hard and it seems to work just fine. I've had my fair share of boyfriends and experiences, and although everything's pretty normal, I like it that way. My life just fits into a routine and now Jared Hall is buggering it all up because he won't quit gaping at me, everywhere, all the time.

Eventually Mr Blund marches in, writes some question on the board, and tells us we're to work in pairs _again_. For the past two years he's had us work in silence alone, even separating the desks in some lessons, and _now_ he decides to go all Will Schuester and encourage working in pairs.

I click my tongue and swivel in my chair to face Jared. He's just staring at me, like he has done for the past week, and I really don't know whether to punch him or kiss him, but I have an overwhelming urge to do both.

_Shut up._ My inner self kicks me and I snap out of it, pick up my pen and start talking. 'So what do you think the main cause is?'

Jared just smiles at me like a loon and I've really had enough. 'Jared? Can you actually say something and shut your mouth and quit staring at me?'

He looks shocked for a moment, before closing his slightly agape mouth and his eyes crinkle. 'I can't talk and shut my mouth at the same time,' he stutters.

Am I meant to be charmed by that?

'Whatever. Can we just do this please?'

I'm not trying to be a bitch but I honestly can't stand to have him watching me anymore. It's so uncomfortable and I constantly feel uneasy and he's never even noticed me before, so I really wish he'd just stop.

'You don't like me, do you?' He asks, in a quiet voice which breaks my heart.

I rub my eyes. 'Look I'm sorry, but I really, I mean I'm really not that bothered by you.' His face falls. 'No! I just mean I don't _not_ like you, but you keep staring at me and it's getting weird and it's not like you ever cared before and I'm having a crap day, or month more like, so if you could just help finish this that would be great.' You know what would be great? If I could act like less of a bitch for five minutes so I don't treat this guy like crap because I don't like that he looks at me.

He nods. 'You got it.' And he finally looks away, and I feel a little bit at a loss.

I pick up my pen again. 'So I'm thinking that-'

'It's overproduction of American industries, I'd say.' I glance up at Jared, who's drumming his pen against the desk, leaning forward as if seeking my approval. In all honesty, I'd never really thought Jared Hall even listened in this class, or any class, so I'm surprised by his input. And surprised that he interrupted me because usually I end up doing all the work whenever any teacher puts the class in pairs.

I feel bad for yelling at the guy. 'Uh, yeah, I think you're right.' I go to write it down, and nothing comes out of my pen. Great. 'Um, could I borrow a pen? Please?'

He immediately thrusts the one he's holding at me and I stare at it stupidly. 'But, um, what will you write with?' I don't know why I'm finding it so difficult to speak, or even think.

He shakes his head. 'I don't care. I'll remember it.'

'You'll just remember it? What, with your photographic memory?' I ask, eyebrows raised.

He snorts. 'Something like that.'

I nod slowly and turn back to the page, still blank, lying in front of me.

After a slight pause he speaks again. 'Where do you work?'

'Where do I, what?' Seriously, _what_ is wrong with me and _why_ am I acting like a first class idiot.

'Last week,' his eyes looks massive right now and man they are so nice, 'You said you had to work. Where do you work?'

'You-you remember that?' _Why_ am I stuttering like a fool?

He nods and widens his eyes, then leans forward.

It takes me a few moments to remember that he actually asked me a question. 'Oh, um, at Beans, you know that coffee shop-'

'I know where it is. I haven't seen you in there before.'

Of course he hasn't. He's Jared Hall, of _course_ he hasn't ever even seen me there. I've seen him there. He always orders a black coffee, but I never serve his table because he's always in there with a group of his friends who scare the crap out of me.

'Oh,' is all I say.

Rain is beating down outside, and the steady hum of voices keeps rising and falling in volume, but Jared's breathing seems to mute everything else out.

'Three-oh-six. What's that?' He murmurs, gesturing to my hand where the number is written in black biro. I instinctively pull my sleeve further down to cover my hand.

'Erm, days 'til school finishes,' I mumble. Why does he care?

He grins. 'I never thought you'd be the kind of girl to count down until summer.'

'And how would you know what kind of girl I am?' That comes out with an edge and my inner voice asks what the hell is wrong with me. I don't know.

Jared's not phased. 'I'm just saying, you're, you know, a scholar or whatever.'

I nod. 'Yeah. Well I mean, it's three hundred and six days 'til school ends, and I can get out of La Push.'

He furrows his brow. 'You're _leaving_?' He sounds upset, but maybe that's just me making stuff up. He leans forward and strokes the numbers etched on my hand. 'Why are you leaving?'

My skin is literally on fire where he's tracing the writing. 'Um,' I wish he'd stop touching me so I could actually form coherent sentences. 'Because I want to be a doctor and you can't do that at community college here.'

He looks up at me in admiration. 'A doctor,' he repeats softly, as his hand swirls over my knuckles, burning my hand in the best possible way. 'I think you'd be a great doctor.'

I swallow loudly. 'Thanks,' I try to speak normally but it comes out as a croak, and I still have a sore throat, so I don't even know if he hears me.

He's still holding my hand, which I need back so we can get some work done. I yank it out of his and he backs away. 'Sorry,' he mumbles.

I immediately want to grab his massive hand in mine and tell him not to be sorry because, really, his hand on mine was the nicest feeling ever and I was just being stupid. But I don't, because I'm going to be a doctor, and I can't be distracted by beautiful boys with burning hands.


End file.
